This is it, Journal.
This is the day my father’s legacy is revived.
This is the day my family’s life changes forever.
There was no sign off, just those last nine words dangling at the end of the page, and I read them over and over again, heart pounding out of my chest with the dark truth that my father never could have understood they held.
Our lives had changed forever on that fateful day.
But not in the way they were supposed to.
Black invaded my vision as I stared at the screen, my head foggy, chest so tight I couldn’t squeeze a breath out to save my life.
Half of the company was ours.
Half of the company had been left to my grandfather, to my father, to us.
There was never supposed to be a Will, and yet my father had found it. He’d brought it to Patrick. Patrick knew what was inside it.
And on the day of my father’s death, he’d asked him to meet in the very office where he perished.
Every nerve in my body stood on end, my chest fluttering with the rapid beats of my heart, head pounding with questions and accusations circling like an F5 tornado. More and more questions popped into my head with every new re-read of the entry, and sweat gathered on my forehead, my gut churning, breaths shallow once I finally found them.
All the years we’d searched for answers, and now we had them.
And I knew sleep was the last thing I’d be able to do now.
Jordan
On the outside, everything was perfect.
It was perhaps the most beautiful November day Stratford, Tennessee, had ever seen. An unusual front of warm weather had swept in overnight, leaving us basked in a cloudless sky of sunshine and a comfortable sixty-seven degrees. It was just warm enough for women to not have to wear a jacket over their dresses, and just cool enough for the men in tuxedos to not sweat.
Perfect.
I stood by Noah’s side at the altar, along with Mikey and Logan, and when the entire congregation turned to watch Ruby Grace float down the aisle in her floor-length, cream-colored lace dress — I watched him. His eyes welled with tears at the sight of her, and he bowed his head, trying to fight them off before he lifted his eyes to her once more and I watched two tears slip in parallel lines down each cheek. His smile was the size of his entire face, though he covered it with one hand, in utter disbelief that the stunning woman walking toward him was about to be his forever.
Perfect.
Ruby Grace’s sister and best friend stood behind her, and I watched them get just as emotional as my brothers during the ceremony as we watched Noah and Ruby Grace pledge their undying love to one another. They held each other’s hands as Pastor Morris spoke of eternal love and sacrifice and compromise and I knew without a doubt that they barely heard a word of it, because they were lost in each other’s eyes, in the dreams they had built together, in the ones yet to come.
Perfect.
It all seemed to come and go in both slow motion and the quickest hour of my entire life. I was wrapped up in every moment, until Pastor Morris declared that they were now husband and wife and Noah could kiss his bride. When he did, the church roared with applause, and Noah turned to the crowd, thrusting his hand holding Ruby’s into the air while he yanked his opposite fist into his side in a victorious pump. He’d landed the girl. She was his, and he was hers, and their new life together started now.
Perfect.
On the outside, at least.
Because on the inside, under the rib cage that held my lungs and heart in place, and under the skull that protected my brain, and inside the deepest part of my gut?
It was total and complete chaos.
As I’d predicted, sleep hadn’t come for me the night before — not after what I’d discovered. I hadn’t been able to eat this morning, either, because the mere thought of food made my entire body heave in protest. Every nerve, every cell that made up the man I was was focused on that journal entry, on what I’d read, on what my father had left behind as the final clue to solve the mystery of his death.
And the worst part was that I knew I couldn’t tell anyone.
Not yet.
It was Noah’s wedding day — a day he’d been planning for and looking forward to for months. It was a day Mom had dreamed of for his entire life. It was a day to celebrate love and union, not to make my entire family sick with the knowledge that Robert J. Scooter had a Will, and we were in it, and Dad had found it, and Patrick knew about it, too.
And the last request he’d made was for Dad to meet him in the office he’d taken his last breath in.
All of it compounded right on top of the feelings that had been stirring inside me over Sydney — the original reason I couldn’t sleep last night. So, while I forced my best smile for my brother and did everything in my power to be present, to celebrate, to let it all go until the day was over, I was powerless to fight the wave of anxiety that took me under over and over again.
After the ceremony, Ruby Grace and Noah stood near the doors to speak with all the guests in the receiving line. Mom stood on one side while Ruby Grace’s parents — Mayor Barnett and his wife — stood on the other, each of them greeting the guests with a handshake or a hug and a thank you so much for being here.
My brothers and I stood off to the side, waiting for the time when our next job duties would kick in. We each had our role to play in the day, and the next step was transporting the bride and groom to the outdoor reception that would be hosted at the Mayor’s mansion.
I had my hands in my pockets, watching Noah’s genuine grin, wondering how the hell I would tell him and my other brothers what I’d found when Sydney stepped into view.
“You know, as much as you look at home in Stratford High colors, I really like you in a navy tux,” she said, her hand finding the flax yellow daisy boutonniere fixed to my lapel. She adjusted the pen to stabilize it, pressing both hands to my chest before her cheeks flushed and she folded them together at her waist, instead.
She wore a long-sleeve, vermilion floor-length dress with a V-cut neck and an open back that exposed her lean muscles. Intricate lace details covered the bodice, the sleeves made entirely of the same lace, and the long, flowing skirt was a crepe fabric that had a slit up to her left thigh, showing her toned legs beneath. When I let my eyes wander over each inch of her face, noting the light and delicate makeup she wore, my stomach took flight on the wings of a dozen hummingbirds. Her eyes were highlighted with golds and pinks and slanted into the shape of a cat’s with liner, and the way she’d braided her hair over one shoulder left the delicate slope of her neck begging for my lips to graze it. The longer I stared at her, the more my chest ached with the yearning urge to reach for her and pull her into me.
Perfect.
I knew I still wore that forced smile I’d put on that morning along with my tuxedo and bow tie, because when our eyes met, Sydney frowned.
“You look beautiful,” I told her on a whisper, and my heart burned in my chest with the truth of it. “So, so beautiful, Sydney.”
She smiled, but her eyebrows were still bent together, her eyes searching mine.
I wondered if she could sense it, my heart breaking — both from my feelings for her and from the discovery of my father’s last entry early this morning. I wondered if just by looking at her, she could feel my pain.
She didn’t ask if I was okay, but as my mother signaled that it was time to make our way outside for the bride and groom’s exit, Sydney looped her arm through mine, holding my bicep as she snuggled in close.
“I’m right here.”
Her words were softer than a whisper, but they brought me my first steady breath of the day, one that pushed out all the stiff air in my lungs and made room for a new, fresh, clean inhale of assurance.
And with her on my arm, I somehow found the strength to walk through the church doors and continue the celebrations, all the while holding the biggest secret I’d ever had buried where no one could see.
Sydney
I hadn’t been to a wedding since my own, which had been small, and private, and far from glamorous. It was just me, Randy, and our families — including Paige, who was already growing in my belly at the time.
It was nothing like this.
While the church ceremony had been modest and simple, the reception at Mayor Barnett’s home was nothing short of extravagant. Their home was something out of Better Home & Gardens magazine, the classic, all-American southern house — complete with a porch that wrapped all the way around. I couldn’t say for sure how many acres they had as part of their land, but it was at least three, and a giant portion of it had been transformed into the nicest event space I’d ever seen.
At the center of it all was a dance floor, planks of wood fitted together in the middle of their yard as if it had always existed there. It was framed by gold and all around it were round tables with lavish floral centerpieces, candles of all sizes, and photos of Noah and Ruby Grace throughout their relationship.
While the tables surrounded the dance floor, at the head of it stood a small stage with a full string band — one that was currently playing the sweetest, most beautiful rendition of “From The Ground Up” by Dan+Shay while Ruby Grace and Noah shared their first dance in the center of the floor. He held her tight, her eyes cast up toward his as they swayed, both of them whispering softly to each other so no one else could hear.
Strings of gold and white twinkle lights criss-crossed above it all, casting the cool November night in a warm evening glow. There were pyramid flame heaters surrounding the tables and placed strategically between them, so that there was plenty of space to move around but also that no guest could ever possibly get cold.
Every detail was thoughtful and reformed.
My eyes found Jordan’s where he sat beside me, and he offered a wink before his gaze was on his brother and Ruby Grace again. The smile he’d been trying to hold all night fell once more, along with my gut, because I knew something was off — thought I didn’t know exactly what it was.
Throughout the evening, as we listened to Logan and Ruby Grace’s sister, Mary Anne, give their speeches, and as dinner was served, and as the band played soft music as we all conversed at his family’s table — I held his hand in mine under the table. He felt so distant that I’d squeeze that hand from time to time, and he’d squeeze in return, letting me know he was still there, when for all intents and purposes he seemed universes away.
And I knew I was the reason.
Here we were, two months from the morning he’d sat at my patio table and told me that he would agree to keep our relationship between us if I agreed to be his wedding date this evening. And while I had followed through on my end just as he had his, I knew that to him, me being here meant more than just me being here.
He wanted all of me.
And what I’d realized this weekend was that I felt the same.
Maybe it was walking with his mother in her garden, listening to her tell stories of Jordan growing up. Maybe it was watching his brothers with Paige, the wide smile on her face and the stars in her eyes. Maybe it was that night, when I’d come to him with my deepest shame, and he’d accepted me fully, holding me and kissing me and making love to me until the morning light slipped through my guest room window.
But I knew it was more than that, too.
It was the way he was with Paige, the way he already cared for her as if she were his own. It was the way he saw all my scars and kissed them with reverence, as if they were what made me beautiful. It was quiet nights on his couch and lively afternoons in my backyard and secret kisses stolen in the locker room at work when no one was looking.
Somewhere, in the middle of all that, my fear and anxiety over what would happen if we were ever publicly together had faded. Somehow, the sense of knowing no matter what, we’d get through it together had taken its place. And some way, I’d fallen in love with the last possible man on Earth who I should have.
My stomach still tightened and rolled at the thought of what the town would say, the gossip that would fly. I still worried over Paige, though part of me knew she’d likely be excited about us being together, about Jordan being a part of our lives.
But the biggest hesitance still grew from the knowledge that my ex-husband was an angry, powerful man.
And I knew he wasn’t ready to let me go yet.
I squeezed Jordan’s hand, and he squeezed me back, his eyes catching mine just as Ruby Grace and Noah finished their last dance. The string lights above us seemed to fill his gray-blue sky eyes with stars, and my throat tightened, heart nearly pounding out of my chest with the need to tell him how I felt.
And I decided, right then and there, that tonight was the night I would turn my back on my fears, on what was holding me back, and I would finally break free of the chains my ex-husband had shackled around my wrists.
Jordan seemed to sense the erratic beats of my heart, because he leaned in close, whispering, “Take a walk with me?”
I nodded, and we politely excused ourselves from the table as the band picked up the mood, launching into a popular, upbeat country song that had the floor already flooded with guests ready to line dance.
Jordan didn’t hold my hand as we weaved our way through the tables, the music softly fading out the farther we made our way across the yard. There was an extravagant garden and gazebo between the wedding reception and the Mayor’s home, and we strolled through it quietly — him with his hands in his pockets, me with mine clasped behind my back.
For a while, we were silent but for the sound of our shoes on the stones lining the garden path. The vines and trees and bushes stretched so tall and wide that we were eventually hidden completely, the reception like another world altogether.
It was then that Jordan stopped mid-stride, and I turned, finding a mixture of pain and fear in his icy eyes.
My heart sank. “Jordan…”
“I know you can tell I’ve been off today,” he said.
I bit my lip, but nodded, moving toward him. My hands tentatively reached for where his were in the pockets of his slacks, and he withdrew them, threading them with mine. My heart picked up its pace, the beat of it loud in my ears as I shook with the words I wanted to say.
I love you.
They were on the tip of my tongue when Jordan looked around us, as if he were afraid we’d been followed, before lowering his voice to a hushed whisper. “I found something last night.” He shook his head. “This morning. Whatever four AM is considered.”
My mouth was already open, ready to speak my truth, but I closed it slowly at his words.
“Found something?” I asked, confused, and suddenly, I was tracing back through my memory of the day, wondering if I’d read everything wrong.
Jordan nodded, looking around again before he pulled me over to the beautifully carved marble bench by the rose bushes. When we were both sitting, he let out a shaky breath, his eyes on mine.
“I’ve been sitting on this all day, but it’s eating me alive, and I just have to tell someone. I can’t tell my brothers — not yet. And, well…” He shrugged. “You’re the only other person I trust.”
My heart swelled, and I squeezed his hands, letting him know he could trust me — and that I trusted him, too.
“You know how I showed you my father’s journal? The one I’d been going through?”
I nodded, and at the mention of his father, my pulse ticked up another notch.
“I couldn’t sleep last night, I… I just had a lot on my mind,” he added quickly, dismissing that part of his story. “So I started working on the journal to tire myself out. But before I knew it, an hour and a half had gone by, and suddenly, I was on the last entry.”
I blinked. “Like, the last entry in his journal… ever?”
Jordan’s expression tightened as he nodded. “Yes. Written on the day of his death.”
A violent chill shot through me, so powerful I trembled where Jordan held me.
&
nbsp; “And,” he added. “This one wasn’t in Latin. It was in English.”
I shook my head, confused. “But… I don’t understand. Wasn’t that the whole point of him writing in the journal? Like… he wanted to learn the Latin language, I thought?”
“He did, at least… that’s what we think. And I didn’t understand it either, not at first.” He swallowed. “Not until I read it.”
His energy was flowing off him in tidal waves, and I was wrecked by each and every one of them, my body reacting like I was in danger of falling off a cliff at any moment. “What did it say?”
Again, Jordan looked around us, then he lowered his voice so much I had to bend in closer to hear him. “Dad read the Will he found, Sydney. The one Robert J. Scooter left behind. And we were in it. My grandfather, my dad, all of us. We were supposed to get fifty percent of the company shares when Robert passed.”
My jaw hinged open, and my eyes found his, mirroring the terror I saw reflected in them.
“Patrick knew,” he continued. “My dad wrote in that last entry that he’d gone to him, that he’d told him and showed him the Will and everything.”
“So Patrick knows about it?”
“He knows,” Jordan confirmed. “And he told my dad he wanted to rectify it immediately, make him partner, announce it to the whole board and the company and pay our family what we were owed. All of that.”
I shook my head, so confused that I ached all over trying to reach for understanding. “I don’t get it. If he knew, if it was all right there in the Will—”
“He told my father he was giving him Robert’s old office,” Jordan continued.
“The one he’d been cleaning out, right? Where he found the Will?”
Jordan nodded. “Exactly. He said that it’s what his father would have wanted, and he told my dad to meet him there after their four o’clock board meeting to discuss next steps.” Jordan’s face went ashen. “He wrote in the entry that he’d already packed up some of his things to move over, that he couldn’t wait to get home to tell Mom.” He swallowed. “To tell all of us.”
Old Fashioned Page 20
